


The Trouble with Physical Proximity

by Diaphenia



Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: 4x01, Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, F/M, Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-01
Updated: 2011-10-01
Packaged: 2018-10-18 15:50:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10620129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diaphenia/pseuds/Diaphenia
Summary: Ann yells at Chris, but what happens after that?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Imported from LJ 
> 
> **Original Author’s Note:**  
>  jncar prompted a fic for the ficathon  
> After another emotional "girls-night-out" with Leslie, where Ann spent most of the night listening to Leslie moaning about how much she misses Ben, Chris makes a move on Ann, suggesting they could try being more than friends again. Ann gets VERY angry and calls Chris out on his hypocrisy for thinking he can break his own stupid rule, and in the heat of the moment she spills the beans on Ben and Leslie's romantic history. Oops!
> 
> Even though I had no intentions of going past the prompt, I have terrible impulse control and the desire to bring in every character ever, and rikyl has a terrible habit of encouraging these shenanigans, so this has started happening.
> 
> **Current Author's Note:** my computer caught on fire and I lost my mostly-finished final chapter. However, I did always love this, so I'm glad to post it (as one chapter)

Ann waved goodbye to Leslie’s cab, and felt guilty for feeling good about doing so. It wasn’t that Leslie was a _burden_ , exactly, but lately any and all conversation seemed to revolve around Ben. What was Ben doing since they broke up, was Ben going to see other people, what if Joan Callamezzo found out, should they move to Rome together, should she call Ben, do Italians even have parks departments, etc, etc, etc. Ann was supportive, but her metaphorical shoulder was starting to get soggy _(to say nothing of her actual shoulder)_. And so, Ann sent a slightly-tipsy- _maybe-drunk_ Leslie home and felt a sense of relief about it.  
  
Ann decided to stay, so she ordered a screwdriver and sat at a table in the back of the Snakehole, giving herself some time to stare off into space and _not_ think about Leslie’s problems. She was so lost in her own thoughts that she barely noticed when Chris takes a seat next to her. When she realized he had, she was annoyed but she decided to roll with it. Chris has many flaws—well, he has that flawlessness flaw—but at least he wouldn’t talk to her about Ben.  
  
“Ann Perkins!” Chris grinned, and threw those finger guns at her. “What are you drinking tonight?”  
  
They exchanged a few minutes of small talk, and then Chris leaned in to her. She could smell that expensive and subtle cologne he would always wear, Bvlgari, and she felt the strangest little rush. Like Pavlov’s dog, she thought, and shook her head, vowing to focus on whatever he was talking about.  
  
“Ann, I just don’t know what to do about Ben Wyatt. I keep offering him vitamins and I rearranged his office and I invited him to my intramural basketball game, but he is literally the most depressed I have ever seen him.”  
  
She sighed. _Naturally_. “Sometimes the changing season gets people down. I would just give it some time. Don’t try to force the conversation, and keep inviting him out. When he is ready he will be grateful for your caring.”  
  
Chris looked thoughtfully at her. “I am so glad I ran into you. I just worry about Ben. He doesn’t even seem as interested in Harvest Fest as he was last year, and he was so excited about that.”  
  
“Well, you know, he took Lil’ Sebastian’s death pretty hard.” She shook her head. _This has to stop_ , she thought. “Let’s talk about something else?”  
  
“I started a new cardio routine—“  
  
“Actually, let’s not talk. Do you want to dance? Let’s dance.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him out of his seat, leaving their drinks on the table, and she led them both to the loudest part of the dance floor, right underneath the speakers.  
  
There was something really nice about not thinking, just listening to the music and moving to the beat. _Chris was right about one thing_ , Ann thought, _and that was the importance of the endorphin rush_.  
  
She hadn’t touched him, not really, since their break-up, and dancing seemed like a safe way to play with those old feelings without having to act on them. It reminded her of how much she missed this, casually touching someone without worrying that it was sending a signal, getting to drape her arms around his shoulders and move in synch with someone without that awkwardness that comes from a new partner.  
  
They really were phenomenal partners. _Dance_ partners.  
  
If she was really honest with herself, though, that wasn’t the only reason she enjoyed this. There was something sexy about dancing with him. It felt a little dangerous and a lot reckless. The physical proximity was making her a little dizzy, and she wished she could get a glass of water, but she also didn’t want to break away. He had his hands on her hips, and she could feel his heat through her jeans.  
  
This was oxytocin brought on by close touching, and a corresponding decrease in cortisol levels. This was _not_ anything more. She decided that if she focused on the science behind it she would not get stupid about it.  
  
The club was filling up with dancers, and they were pushed even closer together. She looked into his face, and for a moment she considered doing something truly reckless—  
  
This was too much. Too much touching, too many physical memories. She had to break away or she was going to fall back into old patterns.  
  
She tore away from him and started walking towards the exit, slipping around dancing couples and flirting singles to get to the door, the fresh air, the better decisions.  
  
And he followed her, and stepped out the door after her.  
  
She started walking, and he followed her wordlessly. She walked east with no real destination in mind.  
  
She ended up at the wiffle ball field at Lafayette Park. Chris followed dutifully; she hadn’t turned around once since she left the dance floor, but she heard his footsteps and his even breathing.  
  
She sat on the bleachers.  
  
Chris sat down next to her, and hesitated, but spoke. “Ann, I enjoyed that a lot, and I know I shouldn’t because I would never want to violate a rule I put in place, but I would deeply enjoy getting to know each other again on a more personal level.”  
  
_That is_ exactly _the wrong thing to say_ , Ann thought, and stood up. “You can’t possibly… all my problems relate to that rule of yours, the one that says City Hall employees can’t date, and now you want to ignore it to get in my pants?”  
  
“Technically I only expressed interest in the prospect. Wait, who are you dating at City Hall? Is it Tom Haverford? Because in case you didn’t know, Leslie Knope dated him last year and it is probably a bad idea to get involved with him because she is your friend.”  
  
“What? I don’t even—No.” Ann felt the start of that confusion that always seemed to cloud her judgment when Chris blew into her orbit. “This isn’t about me, this is about you and your hypocrisy. And I haven’t slept in weeks because of you! Because I am getting 3am phone calls every night.”  
  
Chris furrows his brow in confusion.  
  
The way she couldn’t get her words out made her madder, so she stood up and stomped her foot. “Your stupid rule is ruining everything for my best friend and she can’t even date the first guy I really could see her settling down with because you made some stupid rule against parks department/assistant city manager romance!”  
  
He raised an eyebrow. “Are you talking about Leslie Knope and Ben Wyatt? Do you mean they are dating?”  
  
“No, I mean they were dating, and now they can’t because you make these _stupid_ rules.” At once, Ann realized she made a grave tactical error and slapped her hands over her mouth. “I mean… they aren’t dating. No. I was just being factious.”  
  
Chris stood up, frowned, and walked away.  
  
Ann sat back down. _Oh no._  
  
She took a moment to consider her options. That’s what Leslie would do, after all. And then she realized that she was not Leslie, and took off running.  
  
She got to Leslie’s house in less than an hour, and as she rang the doorbell she stretched to cool down.  
  
Leslie opened the door, sleepy and confused, and Ann brushed past her to finally get that water she needed. Still panting from exertion, she said, “Chris… Ben… this is bad.”  
  
Leslie woke up almost immediately. “Ann, what happened? Did they get recalled back to Indianapolis? Did they get injured country line dancing? Did they get in a fistfight over golf?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Ben is surprisingly good at golf, but apparently Chris told him once it’s mostly his caddy.”  
  
“I don’t even… no. Leslie, I accidentally told Chris that you and Ben used to date.” Ann gulped her water, afraid to look Leslie in the eye.  
  
“Oh Ann.” Leslie said, panic edging in her voice. “This is bad, really, really bad.” She pulled out her phone, and left Ben a voicemail. “Ben, something terrible has happened. Call me immediately. Also, I recorded a new documentary on ballot reform measures that I think you’ll like. Call me back.”  
  
Ben didn’t call back, though, and Ann ended up falling asleep next to Leslie in her bed, still listening to Leslie list off potential solutions to her problem.  
  
***  
Ann stepped out of Leslie’s shower the next morning to find Leslie frantically looking through her closet.  
  
“Ann, Chris called. We have to meet him in an hour at his place. He said we have to talk about this. Ann, I don’t want to do that, but if I have to I need to look respectable. Which blazer says ‘I never made out with Ben on the table in your office’?”  
  
“Leslie, I worked at that table when we worked on the—never mind. It doesn’t matter. This is my fault for not carrying enough Purell. Leslie, sit. I am going to find something for you, and I am going to borrow something to wear myself.”  
  
Ann leafed through Leslie’s closet, finding a bunch of her own clothes Leslie borrowed and never returned, which made getting herself dressed one less big stressful process, leaving her with only the stressful processes of “getting Leslie dressed,” “making Leslie eat something,” and “figuring out how to fix Leslie’s life problems.” At least Ann had jeans she knew fit her perfectly.  
  
***  
Ben and Leslie presented a united front on the couch, while Ann sat off to the side in the armchair. Chris paced in front of the glass coffee table, and then stopped. He clapped his hands together, looked down, and then looked steadily back and forth between Ben and Leslie.  
  
“Ben, Leslie, I am very disappointed in you two. You both knew the rule. The rule was clear, was it not?”  
  
Both of them murmured their agreement, not quite looking him in the eye, like honors students being reprimanded for the first time.  
  
“The rule is in place for a reason. There are all sorts of ways that dating a supervisor can cause issues, not the least of which is that we are ultimately employees of the taxpayers, and as such, we are being entrusted with _their_ money. You now not only violated my personal policy, you crossed ethical boundaries that could endanger our funding, the Harvest Festival, and Leslie’s campaign.”  
  
Leslie wrote in her padfolio, while Ben clutched his to his chest like a talisman.  
  
“And as we all know, Leslie has been the target recently of the local media, who smell blood in the water every time she opens her mouth. In light of that, fraternization outside the office is especially dangerous.”  
  
Chris sat down on his exercise ball _(active sitting maximizes the core)_ in front of them, hands on his knees. “And now I have to go to the city council to officially change policy, which is going to require a vote, but Howser owes me a favor. And then you are both going to have to avoid each other for _at least_ a few months before officially approaching the council with your request to be able to date, which will involve changing reporting lines. In the meantime, Ben, you are unofficially recusing yourself from any and all Parks Department projects and paperwork, including the Harvest Festival, effective immediately.”  
  
Ann was the only one who spoke in the wake of this. “What if Leslie gets elected?”  
  
Chris took a deep breath, and then exhaled slowly. “We are going to have to cross that bridge when we get to it.”  
  
Everyone sat for a moment. And then chaos broke out.  
  
Leslie’s “I told you we should tell him” overlapped with Ben’s “You never change your mind on anything” which caused Chris to look hurt and point out, “I changed my mind on the burgers and on Ron Swanson’s desk and on Mandatory Nature Sounds Tuesday,” which caused Ben to add “Except in our office suite, where Mandatory Nature Sounds Tuesday has become Mandatory Nature Sounds Tuesday _and_ Wednesday.” Ann was the only one who remained quiet, sitting back in her chair and breathing a sigh of relief.  
  
She got up and went into the kitchen to get more agave juice. She paused in front of the fridge, where Chris had several dog-eared photographs that seemed at odds with the rest of his stylish-yet-orderly condo.  
  
There was a picture that was presumably his mother, one of Chris fly fishing with Jerry, one of him—was he _spinning yarn?_ apparently, one of him at a race with a medal around his neck. There was one, however, that really caught her attention. It was her, though it took Ann a moment to place when and where that picture had been taken. It was from that first night at the Snakehole Lounge, when she had first met him. She had no idea who had taken that picture, though she was almost positive Chris had gotten it from facebook. She touched the photo lightly; it was so strange to see herself there.  
  
She walked back into the living room, where Ben and Chris were in the middle of a story about a town they worked that was so dysfunctional that Councilman Dexhart would have been an improvement. Chris saw her enter and shot her a million dollar smile, and he wrapped up the story quickly to get back to the topic at hand.  
  
“We have to keep your out-of-sequence dating a secret. Clearly, Ann knew. Who else knows?”  
  
Leslie starts ticking people off on her fingers. “My mother, who is trustworthy. Ron, who would never tell. And a maintenance worker who caught us nuzzling. On the face. He… he might hate me.”  
  
“Andy might have figured it out too,” Ben said "He knew there were _feelings_ and since I live with him and April they must have noticed that I wasn’t sleeping at home often.”  
  
Chris sighed. “I have no idea how you two carried on for so long without my catching on.”  
  
“We are great at being sneaky,” Leslie said.  
  
“We always turn off our cell phones,” Ben added.  
  
“We have code names for everything. You were ‘Chips.’”  
  
Ben finished with, “And we certainly kept it off of City Hall grounds.”  
  
Leslie finally asked the question that was clearly bothering her. “I don’t understand why you are doing all this, changing your policy.”  
  
Chris blinked, apparently surprised at the question. “You two are my two favorite people in all of Pawnee,” he slid his eyes over to Ann, who looked away, “And I believe you avoided ethically troubling behavior. I would hate to make you choose between work and romance.”  
  
Ann listened to this, and wondered. She wondered if she had to do with Chris’s change of heart; if he was smoothing the way for an attempt to seduce her; if he was being nice to her friend to get back with her. She turned it around and around in her head; he hadn’t attempted anything with her since their break-up, and she was the one that had asked him to dance. He was friendly and always had lovely compliments for her, but then again he had compliments for _Jerry_ too, so that meant nothing. Still, there had been genuine heat between them when they were dancing, and he had had his face near hers and it was impossible to imagine she was the only one who had considered closing that gap.  
  
Then she looked over at Chris, who gripped Ben’s face and told him how amazing he is and how he deserves happiness (Ben looked equal parts annoyed that his face was being touched and pleased that things were working out for him, without a hint of surprise that Chris would be doing that) and it occurred to her that one had to measure Chris with an entirely different metric than everyone else.  
  
Leslie had relaxed into a genuine smile, and the looks she had thrown Ben during this discussion were some of the happiest Ann had seen, but it wasn’t long before she was hyperventilating at the thought of Ben not helping her on the Harvest Festival. Chris assured her that he would take over for Ben, and maybe Ann could help him. Which made Ann wonder again.  
  
***  
Ann and Chris ended up working on Harvest Festival together quite often. Leslie was still running the whole thing, but even her tireless devotion to the project was interrupted by her campaign. Ann didn’t mind, even though she had to cut back even more hours at the hospital, because planning this actually gave her a bit of a rush. Every time she and Chris worked together on the festival she was excited, and whether that had to do with sitting close to him or getting to come up with ways in incorporate Public Health initiatives into the festival or even joy at the corn maze, it might not matter.  
  
That’s not to say everything was running along smoothly. There were all sorts of issues Leslie had that required Ann’s full and undivided attention; Ben was acting distant sometimes, campaigning was difficult, delegating important projects was difficult, Harvest Festival in particular was impossible to cede control on. With Ann’s help, Leslie continued to keep her plates spinning, and somehow Ann was the one feeling exhausted.  
  
It didn’t help that she had sex on the brain since Leslie kept telling her each time she and Ben hooked up _even though you are really supposed to be avoiding Ben, Leslie_. Apparently, absence made the heart really want to screw in the janitor’s closet, and in Ben’s Saturn, and on Chris’s table _again_. It occurred to Ann in the middle of one of these massive texted missives that she has not been on a date since she started working at City Hall, and maybe she would be more sympathetic to her friend’s plight if she was going out regularly or at all.  
  
She was going to see Chris for their meeting when she passed Ben in the hallway, and he gave her a sly smile. Right on cue, her pocket buzzed with what was sure to be the first of a dozen text messages from Leslie on _why_ Ben’s hair was sticking up like that.  _It might be time to go back to landlines,_ she thought.  
  
Everything changed at that meeting, the same day Ann saw Ben.  
  
She gave in to temptation.  
  
Oh, she and Chris didn’t kiss—that came later, to the shock of everyone who saw the tape—but that the first meeting they had had since they took over the project that things get less than professional. Ann could blame a lot of different things: Leslie’s text messages, Ben’s hair, or the way that Chris would just smile at her like she was the center of the universe. But she had had all those things in her life for a while now, and that wasn’t it.  
  
It really started because of Jean-Ralphio.

***

Jean-Ralphio, that goofy friend of Tom’s, had apparently felt adrift after Entertainment 720 had closed up shop—well, closed up _airplane hanger_ , and then closed up _much smaller office_. So even though he wasn’t in college anymore, he ended up an intern at City Hall. As near as Ann could tell, this meant he wandered around and worked on his most important project, a giant rubber band ball.  
  
She and Chris discussed the Ferris wheel at the table, and it was entirely adult and professional.  
  
“I think we should go with a different company this year to provide the rides. I was researching safety measures—” and so on.  
  
But Jean-Ralphio sat at the table with them, and he bounced his rubber band ball off the table. And then off of Chris’s hand weights. And then off of binders. And once, she was certain, while no one was watching him, off of the wall. They were all unsatisfactory bounces, however, because he kept rewinding the rubberbands in the search for “aerodynamic perfection.”  
  
“Boss—” He kept calling Chris ‘Boss’ and Ann wasn’t altogether clear he knew his name—“Boss, I think we should include a club-vibe at night. A dance floor in a tent, drinks for sale, people getting ridonkulous, and then a bus to take them home afterwards. We stage it near a hotel, too, and they get all kinds of busy-ness, you know it!”  
  
He held up his hand to get a high five from Chris, who smiled and slapped his hand, but immediately started shaking his head. “I’m afraid we can’t open ourselves up to any sort of liability.”  
  
Ann, who was tired of Jean-Ralphio rapping at her _(P to the E to the R to the plural family, Ann is the one I want to come tackle me!)_ went ahead and overrode Chris. “I think you should research that—somewhere else—and you should present your findings officially and we should discuss it. That could be a great money maker. And you could start thinking about that while first getting us both coffee.”  
  
Even though a task like that should only take fifteen, twenty minutes, Ann knew the coffee run would take an hour, minimum.  
  
“Ann Perkins, do you dislike Jean-Ralphio?”  
  
“It’s not that I don’t like him, but I am setting him free from sitting here and staring at us. Besides, I have a taste for lukewarm coffee with the incorrect amount of creamer in it.”  
  
Chris crooked an eyebrow at her, and she giggled. “Alright, you got me. I don’t dislike him, but he is intense. Besides, I thought we could kick back for a moment. We have been at this ride problem for… almost two hours? That’s can’t be right. My watch must be broken.” She took her watch off and checked her phone. “No! _Three hours_. We need a break.”  
  
“Do you want to stretch? Good for the muscles.”  
  
“I do not. You go for it.” Ann knew there was a time when she would have jumped at Chris’s suggestion, but that day was past. She took a moment to read the seventeen text messages Leslie had sent her. Twelve were devoted to things she had done with Ben in the—oh gross, the Parks Department conference room—and the other five were imploring Ann to help her with the print shop that was producing her campaign poster, to help her buy a new blazer for some meeting, and telling Ann she was beautiful. She sighed.  
  
Chris looked up from his stretch routine. “You need to talk about something?”  
  
“No. Maybe. Leslie is so excited about her campaign, and I’m so happy for her.”  
  
“You should be. She has excellent chances and she’s a fantastic asset to Pawnee.”  
  
“I know. Believe me, I _know_. But I’m just not sure how it became my responsibility to do everything for her along the way.”  
  
“What is she asking you to do?” Chris asked, taking a seat next to her.  
  
“Errands and favors. Today it’s posters and clothing, but tomorrow it’s going to be flyers and speeches or promotional videos and celebrity endorsements. I’d like to go home and take a bubble bath—do you have any idea when I last took a bubble bath?—but instead I’m going to be doing these things and three more things too.”  
  
“Couldn’t you _not_ do those things? Or only do one of them? Or make calls while you are in the—while you are relaxing?” Chris didn’t quite meet her eyes, and Ann realized how casually she just referred to the third place they’d ever slept together.  
  
Immediately, she redirected the conversation and put the kibosh on his foolish suggestion. “One, I’m not going to be relaxing if I am arguing with a print shop. Two, I’m going to do those things for her.”  
  
Chris studied her, and she felt compelled to add, “I love her, and she is my best friend. But lately everything just feels so… one-sided.” She had never even told Leslie the exact circumstances under which she had accidentally passed on that information to Chris. Leslie had jumped straight into solutions, because Leslie didn’t dwell, but Ann had wanted to discuss it, both to clear her conscience, and to figure out what, exactly, it meant when you were drawn to a person again.  
  
Chris looked a little troubled, and asked her, “Do you feel like she is taking advantage of you?”  
  
Ann kept her eyes on her hands. “Sometimes, I think I let people take the lead too easily. Leslie is super enthusiastic about everything, and I tend to go with whatever she wants me to do… I tend to do that with people.” She twisted her hands together, and let the rest of her thoughts stay silent.  
  
When she finally looked up, she saw Chris was staring at his hands too.  
  
Suddenly, Jean-Ralphio burst into the room, a single coffee in his hand.  
  
“Ann, Boss, you would not believe the adventure I just had.” Jean-Ralphio sat down at the table across from both of them. “I ran into Jello Shot—“  
  
“You were drinking?” Chris asked, not glancing up.  
  
“I mean, I ran into Ben—“  
  
“Was _Ben_ drinking? What has gotten into him lately? The entire time we worked together in Indianapolis—”  
  
“It’s a nickname, Boss, and an aspirational one at that. The point is, I ran into Ben and I was talking to him about my idea—“  
  
“Jean-Ralphio, I want you know I realize I should have given your suggestion more thought,” Chris said, walking over to him and putting his hand on his shoulder. “I am going to start thinking up solutions so we can try to make this work. I reacted less-than-positively to your suggestion without thinking it through.” He looked at Ann, and continued, “And from now on I am going to work on that.”  
  
Ann stood up, and touched Jean-Ralphio’s other shoulder. “And I am going to start pushing when I hear awesome suggestions.”  
  
“And I am sorry, Ann Perkins, if I ever ignored your Harvest Festival ideas in the past. It won’t happen again.”  
  
“And I am not going to push for my ideas. In terms of Harvest Fest ideas.”  
  
Jean-Ralphio broke the tension with, “Am I in trouble because I didn’t bring you guys whatever I was supposed to bring you?”  
  
“You’re fine, dude,” Ann said, though she wished she had coffee.  
  
“Anyway, so I was telling Ben that I wanted to have a club night at Harvest Festival, and he said I needed to stop rifling through his desk, and I told him he needed to do something new with his hair, and then I pulled out my mousse and we went into the porcelain palace…”  
  
***  
  
They fell back into their old exercise routine. Chris decided to do his ten mile lunch run after work instead, and Chris and Ann started jogging together over lunch. Well, not just them. They brought Jean-Ralphio along as their chaperone. He’s surprisingly game for it, once he buys some designer workout clothes. At first, everything worked out, because the three of them jogged together, discussing Harvest Fest the entire time (when Jean-Ralphio isn’t rapping about exercising).  
  
But they ran into some trouble when Jean-Ralphio invited Tom. And Tom actually was pretty good at running, so when all the endorphins got to him, he used his people skills to bring out more City Hall workers, till there were a dozen employees jogging together every day.  
  
This was great for the City Hall Health Initiative, but bad for chaperoning. Jean-Ralphio ran instead with Tom, and Chris and Ann were left alone, jogging together almost daily. And the conversation almost always started out being about the Harvest Festival, but they kept slipping into friendlier topics, ranging from things they were watching on television (she was watching _The Office_ , he was watching _Up All Night_ ) to things they were doing that weekend (he never mentioned dates, but she always wondered) to things they are going to do once Harvest Fest is over.  
  
One day the conversation drifted to their plans for the future. Chris asked her what she wanted to do with her life, and she felt at a loss for words. What did she want to do? Nursing wasn’t a passion, per se, though she liked it, and City Hall fit better than she thought, but she wasn’t sure she entirely fit in. Even though she had been there for about six months, she felt she didn’t quite belong. And she ended up poring her feelings out to him, not making eye contact, just focusing on the burning in her legs. He started off into his usual routine—“Ann, you are a great person with extraordinary talents”—and she cut him off. She didn’t want that, and she told him so. He went quiet and they ran the rest of the route in silence.  
  
The next day she found a motivational book on her desk. When she picked it up, an index card fell out. It said, “I know I say it to everyone, but I really mean it when I say you are extraordinarily talented.”  
  
***  
  
Despite the endorphin high Ann was on, she was getting frustrated with the Harvest Festival. She was mostly staying on top of planning, but she put in increasingly long hours on Harvest Festival; Leslie was still in charge, but she was becoming more comfortable with delegating as time went on, possibly because Ann was there and Ann was not just trustworthy, but (as Leslie keeped saying) she couldn’t possibly do anything without Ann. Even though Ann vowed to stop doing everything for Leslie, that is almost impossible to keep; Leslie overwhelmed her almost every time.  
  
Things stayed professional in the office, but sometimes that was difficult, to go from hour-long jogs and non-professional talks.  
  
One day, after Chris talked about getting the petting zoo installed, she started throwing staples at Jean-Ralphio _(he was making a bracelet)_ and was startled when she was interrupted by Tom, who came by to talk to Jean-Ralphio (“for work” he was quick to assure Chris, who believed him for some reason, and Tom winked at her like he knew what was going on, which was insane) and she was left wondering what the next step was for her.  
  
By now, the new dating policy was official, though Chris was quick to point out to Ben and Leslie that they still had to wait to approach the council. He certainly hadn’t mentioned anything about the two of them, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to have that conversation anyway, but she did consider that she might like to take that step. Maybe. She was still undecided.  
  
***  
Everyone went to Snerling to research clubbing for Jean-Ralphio’s project. Ann pointed out that this was unnecessary, since they went clubbing regularly, but she had been quickly outvoted. They met up in the parking lot, and everyone was there- Andy and April, Donna, Ron, Tom and Jean-Ralphio, Jerry, and Ben, who kept shooting Leslie what he probably assumed were covert glances.  
  
“That’s everyone! Let’s go in.” Leslie chirped, pulling out her ID in a fit of optimism.  
  
“Oh, isn’t Chris coming?” Ann asked.  
  
“Damn it! You know, I completely forgot to ask him,” Leslie said, shrugging. “That’s not a big deal, right?”  
  
“Well, you know he is _working_ on this project. And we’re…” she trailed off, not sure what to say. “I just assumed you were going to invite him.”  
  
“Sorry I’m late, guys!” Chris said, running over from the bike rack. Leslie smiled and greeted him, and then started walking towards the entrance.  
  
Ann fell to the back of the group, and Andy stopped walking to wait for her. “I sent him a text message earlier. You and him have something going on here, right?”  
  
“How did you guess… Leslie doesn’t even know.”  
  
Andy gave her a light punch on the arm. “Ann, I got your back.” He jogged up to meet April. Ann froze for a moment, until Jerry bumped into her and she realized she needed to get moving. _I need to stop dating people who work with me._ Yeah, she needed to stop this. There was something weird about having two ex-boyfriends working one floor away from each other. And she was going to have to make sure Chris got his shoes shined somewhere else. Anywhere else.  
  
The club was crowded, and everyone split off to get drinks. Leslie promised to get Ann a drink, and was swept away by the crowd.  
  
Ann stood around awkwardly for a few moments. She then went outside to get some air. Andy was by the side of the club, twirling a guitar pick in his hands. His face lit up when he noticed her. “A-Bear,” he greeted her, using her old nickname. “Stand by the wall with me, let’s talk.”  
  
She leaned back against the wall and sighed. “How’d you figure it out?”  
  
“We did date forever back in the day. There was a time, back when, when you looked at me like that.”  
  
“And that didn’t work out.”  
  
“It was no one’s fault.” Andy shook his head. “Ok, it was my fault. It worked out, though. Now I’m married—“  
  
“You are _married_ ” Ann repeated, since that still just didn’t quite compute in her head.  
  
“And you are way better off without me. Besides, you like Chris, I get it. He wears suits, and he has a job. Everything you like in a guy. Plus, he’s awesome. He cooks, and he was best man at my wedding.”  
  
“I didn’t realize he was your best man.”  
  
“The best man role is a very important at a wedding.”  
  
“I’m sorry I missed that. You and April are so perfect for each other. I’m glad you’re so happy now.” She winced a little; it was still a bit strange to think about. She wasn’t sure she could have handled attending the surprise wedding. That might have been too much. But she was happy for him. He was not the same guy that seemed permanently imbedded in her couch.  
  
“I love April—she is my world—but I didn’t forget you exist in the process. I owe you everything. If I hadn’t been trying to win you back from Mark…”  
  
“Mark. There was a going-nowhere relationship. And it just kept going…” Ann was struck with a little clarity suddenly; Mark and Andy fit clearly into a relationship pattern that went way back to college. No, to high school.  
  
“I ran into Mark once a few months ago and I told him I was married and he asked if _we_ were married and I _might_ have let him think that for a few minutes but then I mentioned April--.” Andy chatted on while Ann considered all the men she had loved before. _Damn it, there was a pattern._  
  
“…knocked over a jelly display…”  
  
She would get in relationships with men who were wrong for her, and then she would just stay in them until something happened that justified her breaking up with them.  
  
“… signed up for a Battle of the Bands…”  
  
Even when the relationship was all wrong, she stayed. It was perverse. Oh, sure, she could dump men she went on a date or two with, but once they were in a relationship, she just stayed and stayed and put up with all sorts of weirdness.  
  
“…November in Chicago shouldn’t be too cold right?...”  
She could still be in any one of those relationships to this day because she would just stay forever as long as they weren’t completely awful.  
  
Andy wrapped up his story—Ann assumed he did, because he lead led her back into the club—and she went searching for Leslie. She found her, exiting one of the bathrooms, and for some reason Ann was surprised when Ben came out right after her, zipping his pants.  
  
“Are you two just trying to get caught?” she asked Leslie.  
  
Leslie pointed to her ears and yelled back, “Can’t hear you, Ann, but I’m going to go get you that drink now!”  
  
Ann rolled her eyes, got her own drink, and went back to the dance floor. She ran into Jean-Ralphio, on break from getting rejected by the women in short skirts, and she danced with him for a bit. She danced with Jerry after that, and while she was, Chris came up, whispered something to Jerry, who nodded to her with a knowing smile and wandered off.  
  
She spent half the night dancing with Chris. She enjoyed everyone else’s company too, but somehow the two of them just kept drifting back on the dance floor together. No matter what else was going on right now that was something she could count on.  
  
***  
Ann could see that Ben was not pleased with the direction that the Harvest Festival Clubbing Night was going. Chris had asked him- as a friend, not as a colleague- to take a glance at the plans Jean-Ralphio had put together.  
  
“You realize this plan would incorporate eleven-point-three percent of the budget for Harvest Fest, right? That’s total budget, not the seven-point-four percent we agreed you could work with.” Ben said, running his hands through his hair.  
  
“I didn’t.” Chris said.  
  
“You have to tell Jean-Ralphio to scale this back.” Ben started pointing to random pages in the binder. “This guy just doesn’t understand moderation. Look, you only need one DJ, and the dry ice would probably be a safety hazard, and while I’m sure a light show would be exciting, we blew a fuse last year just plugging in cameras.”  
  
“Maybe you could tell him.”  
  
“Chris. We talked about this. And then we talked about this again.”  
  
Chris’s smile dropped. “I know, but you’re good at this kind of thing, and I’m just not.”  
  
“Well, I’m going to have to pass this time. I have given that kid enough bad news this year. Someone else has to ruin his dreams, and it’s not going to be me.”  
  
Ann felt awkward watching this. “I could do it.”  
  
“No, Ann. Chris is going to do it.” Ben stood up and walked out of Chris’s office.  
  
“I really could—” Ann offered, and she was interrupted by Ben’s “Ann, stop that!” from just outside the door.  
  
“No, he’s right,’ Chris sighed. “I just—bad news is so upsetting to receive, that I just hate to give it. Everyone has talents. And I am great at people! Great at _happy_ people. Ben is great at less-than-happy people.”  
  
“Yeah, but you know, sometimes you are going to make happy people less-than-happy people because you aren’t just _telling them what they need to know._ Sometimes people would rather know something for certain than to wonder. We would rather hear a ‘no’ than think they are getting a ‘yes’ and sometimes we would just rather know… that there isn’t going to be dry ice and five DJs.”  
  
“Right.” Chris looked a little guilty and she knew she had him.  
  
“The good cop can’t handle people making sad faces at him occasionally?” Ann smiled, but her pocket started buzzing. She pulled out her phone and her face immediately betrayed her.  
  
“Leslie?” Chris asked, teasing gently. “She needs… let me guess. Nine hundred buttons passed out downtown. Or… a cake shaped like Lil’ Sebastian.”  
  
Ann glared at him, texting Leslie back. “How about I deal with Leslie, and you handle Jean-Ralphio."  
  
“Agreed. And, I want you to know I am taking your advice seriously. Just to show you how seriously, I am going to go do that now.” He continued to sit.  
  
She continued to text.  
  
“Ok, count of three. Both of us, what do you say?” He says, fiddling with the masking tape she has for Jean-Ralphio.  
  
She smiled at him.  
  
And on the count of three, they both attempted to be better people.  
  
***  
  
Ann was on a double date.  
  
Leslie and Ben didn’t realize it was a double date, because they were too busy making eyes at each other. Ann hadn’t realized it was going to be a double date, because she took Leslie at her word when she said she needed some ‘Ann-time’ in her life. Though this explained why Leslie was so insistent that they go to a sports bar instead of the wine bar. She should have known; of course Leslie could tell the difference between types of wine, she was good at everything. And Ann was almost certain Chris didn’t realize it was a double date, because he believed their sneaky friends when they claimed they weren’t going to start dating again for now.  
  
So Ann alone realized she was on a double date, and tried to relax into it.  
  
It was difficult. For one thing, she was nervous that Chris (or all of Pawnee) was going to notice that Leslie and Ben were into each other. Somehow, people didn’t see it, but Ann saw it every time they looked at each other. She was also nervous that Leslie and Ben were going to notice that she and Chris were peaking at each other and grinning, and that was going to be an awkward conversation to have given that Leslie _still_ had no idea that she and Chris were… whatever. Ben presumably didn’t know either, though maybe he did.  
  
Ann was _not_ relaxed.  
  
So she jumped, actually jumped, when Chris’s foot brushed against hers underneath the table. He smiled at her, and she realized she needed to calm down. No one was paying attention to their booth. She ordered another drink, and she did an impulsive thing and rubbed his foot against his, deliberately.  
  
They started playing footsie. It was so high school, and silly and a little dangerous, but that made it exciting, and suddenly she understood why Ben and Leslie were _dating_ all over Pawnee. The fact that Chris kept his composure, and in fact was having a conversation with Ben, made her want to rattle his cage a little.  
  
She slipped off her heel.  
  
Ben was going back and forth between Leslie and Chris, telling Leslie a story about his brother’s wedding a few years ago. “And since we had broken up right before the wedding, I had an extra plate and this weird, sad facial hair going on. So I asked Chris to go with me.”  
  
“I told him there was literally nothing in the world I would rather do that weekend. And it was true.”  
  
“My mother liked him so much, she invited him to Thanksgiving.”  
  
“And I accepted. Besides, my parents spent that winter in Florida. I went there for Christmas, and the Christmas parade at Disney World was amazing. They had—” Ann stuck her foot underneath his pant leg, and he faltered. “They had—well, it was great. Mickey, you know.”  
  
Ben gave him a brief look, and picked the story back up. “Anyway, I didn’t realize until I saw the reservation at the hotel that my parents thought I was _dating_ Chris. I mean, I called him my partner, but you know, we also worked together. I thought my parents got that, but they were just excited they were going to get grandchildren before they went.”  
  
“They were very welcoming. Warm people…” He bit his lip, and shook his head slightly, and cocked his head at Ann, who smiled back. “Very warm. Wonderful people.”  
  
Leslie leaned forward slightly. “This explains the birthday card you got this summer.”  
  
Ben sighed. “Not that they are anywhere near death, but they just love babies. I can’t tell them the truth. I tried. They were just so happy I was seeing someone that I was willing to bring home. I think they think I hate my hometown.”  
  
“Partridge is my favorite—” Chris flushed slightly, glanced at Ann. “Wonderful town, best town in Minnesota. Great town. Excellent lakes to run next to.”  
  
“They asked about you when I went back to see my new niece.” Ben rolled his eyes a little. “They always ask about you. I think they like you better than me. Maybe not as much as my brother, since he is now providing babies. But maybe more than me.”  
  
“Nonsense, Ben. The last time I spoke to your mother—”  
  
“Wait, when did you talk to her? Thanksgiving?”  
  
“She calls me from time to time. Not more than twice a month. Except, in March, she called me three times. Anyway, she is very—” His eyes widened a bit, and he shot her a look, which made Ann smile. “Very proud of you. She was telling Betty just last week—”  
“Betty? Betty… wait, Mrs. Gold?”  
  
“Yes, Betty. Betty’s daughter, Claudia won an award for that building she designed on Plymouth, the new restaurant plaza/dental suite—”  
  
Ben buried his face in his hands. “Of course you are up-to-date on the gossip in _my_ hometown. Just, of course you are.”  
  
“You mother is proud. Trust me.”  
  
Leslie jumped in. “Let me tell you, people think Ann and I are dating all the time.” She looked a little disappointed when neither of the guys seemed overly shocked.  
  
Ben frowned a little. “Right, there was that guy from the radio station.”  
  
“The Douche,” Leslie supplied.  
  
Ben cringed. “I can’t call an adult ‘The Douche.’” They veered off into a discussion about appropriate nicknames. Apparently, Ben wasn’t a huge fan, even when the nicknames weren’t gross.  
  
Chris, meanwhile, had maneuvered the condiment holder and had stuck his hand between the menus and the wall. He looked at her, then glanced at his hand, and—what the hell, why not?—she put her hand in his.  
  
She forced herself to tune back in to the conversation happening next to her.  
  
“…but Dexthart was fine with that rumor, because it was better than the truth..”  
  
She tuned back out, because Chris had turned her hand over and started rubbing his thumb over her palm, and it was making her feel very warm. Or maybe that was because she was looking at him, and he was looking at her, and she barely remembered that an hour ago she was annoyed that Leslie had “run into” these two.  
  
“Right, Ann?” Leslie asked, touching her shoulder for confirmation. Ann dragged her eyes over reluctantly, and nodded. Leslie was probably right about whatever she was saying.  
  
Chris started brushing his fingers over hers, first all four at once, and then one at a time, and Ann was feeling a little light-headed.  
  
“… and the videotape was pretty damning, but that is Pawnee politics.”  
  
“It made for an awkward conversation with my parents,” Ann said, feeling like she should probably contribute.  
  
“My mother wasn’t weird about it. She just asked me how ‘Barbie’ was doing. I don’t know why calls you that, but she does, or at least she was at that point.”  
  
“Great.” Ann barely processed that, because Chris was now running his fingers on her lower arm, and Marlene Griggs-Knope suddenly didn’t matter.  
  
Ben broke in. “How did you convince them Dexhart was lying?”  
  
Leslie frowned. “I went on _Pawnee Today_ and I told the truth. The truth always wins people over, Ben.”  
  
“But you had already told them the truth, and they didn’t believe it…?”  
  
“And now they did, end of story.”  
  
“I just feel like there has to be more to the story. Ann, you were there, what happened?”  
  
The fog in Ann’s brain was permeated just enough to for her to realize she was supposed to respond to… something. She had to stop this, since she was going to start getting weird looks from the two least-sneaky people in Pawnee, so she lifted her arm and smoothed her hair, casually, and ignored Chris’s crestfallen look.  
  
“Leslie is very persuasive when she wants to be…”  
  
Leslie looked at her, gratefully, and Ann smiled back at her, and for one moment, everything felt alright between them.  
  
***  
  
The Harvest Fest opened to great acclaim, most of which was directed at Leslie. This was fine, completely and totally fine, absolutely great. Leslie was not the type to take credit even when she deserved it.  
  
Barnes, however, was happy to give Leslie all the credit. Which really set Ann’s teeth on edge. And Leslie didn’t think to—or was instructed not to—fix that.  
  
Leslie got to make several speeches over the course of the week, rousing volunteers and patrons alike, and boosting her name recognition among voters. And each time, Ann waited in vain to hear Leslie acknowledge Ann’s part in the success of Harvest Festival, and each time it didn’t come. By Saturday night, she was annoyed with Leslie (somehow, she still picked up Leslie’s drycleaning, but Ann at least had the presence of mind to merely throw it in the backseat of her car, and something probably got wrinkled.)  
  
So when it was time for the Harvest Festival Clubbing Tent, the official name, or the Cornhole, as the kids were calling it, Ann was perfectly content to drink while glaring at Leslie, who was entirely oblivious to Ann’s dirty looks. She was on the dance floor twirling around Ben, who seemed content to let her do most of the moving—how had no one caught on yet?—and Ann was at the bar, doing shots with Tom. Tom was wasted almost immediately, and Ann complained to him, perhaps a bit louder than she should, about how Leslie was driving her nuts.  
  
“You can’t take that personally,” Tom said, swaying slightly. “You know how Leslie is. And you know how that manager of hers is.”  
  
“I took this job against my better judgment, and I really do like it.”  
  
“You’re great at it,” Tom slurred.  
  
“It’s just that Leslie spends so much time doing stuff for her campaign, and somehow that means I’m doing everything for her, including a bunch of stuff for this Harvest Festival, and it seems to me that the least she could do is tell everyone that’s thanks to me. Or at least in part thanks to me,” Ann said, smacking the bar with her hand.  
  
Chris came up to them, and Ann had the craziest feeling of Déjà-vu. This time, she told him to pull up a stool, and do a shot with them both. She knew Chris rarely drank hard liquor, but he went ahead and ordered a round of Patron shots. Tom took his even though he probably shouldn’t, and leaned over to Ann and told her, slightly too loud, that it was great that she and Chris were going “whatevering” again. Then he laid his head on the bar. Ron walked by, spotted Tom’s sloppiness almost immediately, and hoisted him over his shoulder to get some fresh air.  
  
And Ann and Chris ended up on the dance floor for the third time since their break-up. The cologne, the booze, the annoyance at Leslie and the pride she felt for her first big project with the government— all of that swirled around her brain, and she made the biggest and best mistake of her life.  
  
She kissed him.  
  
She gripped his hair (it was getting weirdly long lately) and she pressed her mouth against his, and he melted into her, and it was glorious.  
  
Unfortunately, it was also caught by Joan Callamezzo’s camerawoman.

***

 


End file.
